Preaching Truth to Power

In the 1970s, when my dad was Bishop of the New Jersey Lutheran Synod, and a decade later when he was senior pastor of a Lutheran church in northern Virginia that included high-level government officials, he and I talked often about the proper role of the Church in society. Because my dad had to write and preach sermons almost every Sunday, our conversations were mostly about the proper role of the clergy—pastor, priest, rabbi—in addressing issues of public import. When the teachings of one’s faith contradict the established political and social order, to what extent should a sermon risk offending people in power, including wealthy and influential members of the congregation? 

As both a bishop and a parish pastor, my dad knew personally the pressures facing clergy in congregations around the country. He understood the trouble that can arise when a pastor speaks powerfully on a controversial topic or engages in acts of civil disobedience or protest on behalf of a moral cause. When he served in the New Jersey Lutheran Synod (1968-1978), my dad defended several pastors who came under fire in their congregations for publicly protesting or speaking out against the Vietnam War. One pastor in Camden was arrested for publicly burning draft cards. My dad helped a youth leader and others apply for conscientious objector status on religious grounds to avoid the draft. When I was in law school during the Reagan administration, my dad contended frequently with when and how far he should push in addressing what he believed at the time were morally troubling actions of the Reagan administration. This was not a theoretical question, as his congregation included six members of Congress, some of whom strongly supported Reagan, and others who worked for the administration. 

Of course, it was easy for me, sitting in the cheap seats, to say, “Dad, what good is the Church if it does not provide moral leadership on public affairs? If the leaders of the Church do not have the courage to speak out on issues of war and peace, poverty and inequality, discrimination and bigotry, then who will?” I remember the look on my dad’s face during these conversations, a look of despair and conflict. He agreed with me in principle, but said it was complicated and not as easy as it sounds. He was right, of course. Leaders of all professions contend with these concerns all the time. University presidents, for example, are expected to provide bold leadership and guidance to the university community in addressing the complex issues confronting society. But often when they do, they risk offending powerful donors and alumni. 

My dad understood his obligation, as the spiritual leader and public face of his congregation, to speak truth to power and provide sincere guidance based on his understanding of the religious teachings of his faith. He knew it was important to relate those teachings to the issues and concerns of the congregation, even if his views as pastor might offend his congregants. He occasionally had members leave his congregations over the years based on something he said in a sermon. Shortly after my dad became pastor of the northern Virginia church, a visiting Supreme Court Justice (who at the time was one of the most conservative members of the Court) politely told my dad after the service that this was not the right congregation for him. It was just as well. But anyone who thinks it is easy to maintain unity at a church or synagogue while also providing bold and courageous leadership on controversial topics, at least without a forward thinking and supportive congregation, is mistaken.

Last week, the Right Reverend Mariann Edgar Budde, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, delivered a soft spoken, yet powerful sermon at the Washington National Cathedral in the presence of President Trump and a host of Washington power brokers. Presiding over a national prayer service, Bishop Budde preached compassionately on the theme of national unity, “the kind of unity that fosters community across diversity and division, a unity that serves the common good.” 

She referenced the Sermon on the Mount and reminded those present that Jesus exhorted his followers “to love not only our neighbors, but to love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us, to be merciful as God is merciful; to forgive others who forgive us.” This love includes welcoming the outcasts and strangers among us; welcoming the poor, the weak, and the powerless.

She decried “the culture of contempt that has become normalized in this country and threatens to destroy us.” And she spoke about three important foundations of national unity. The first is “honoring the inherent dignity of every human being,” which in public debate “means refusing to mock or discount or demonize those with whom we differ.” The second is “honesty, in both private conversation and public discourse,” which requires that we “speak the truth, even when, especially when, it costs us.” The third is “humility” because “we are most dangerous to ourselves and others when we are persuaded without a doubt that we are absolutely right and someone else is absolutely wrong.”

Acknowledging that unity is not easy in times of division, Bishop Budde implored President Trump, who was seated only a few feet away, to have “mercy” on immigrants and the L.G.B.T.Q. community, people who stand to be disproportionately impacted by the president’s executive orders and his administration’s policies.

Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you, and as you told the nation yesterday, you felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian, and transgender children in Democratic, Republican, and independent families, some who fear for their lives. And the people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings, who labor in poultry farms and meatpacking plants, who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals. They may not be citizens or have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. 

… I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away, and that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land. May God grant us the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, to speak the truth to one another in love, and walk humbly with each other and our God, for the good of all people . . . in this nation and the world.

At a time when political divisions threaten to rip apart the moral foundation of the nation, and when the most vulnerable among us are genuinely afraid for the country’s direction, Bishop Budde simply asked that the nation’s leaders respect our differences, treat people with dignity, speak honestly and with humility, and exercise mercy. These are not radical concepts in a faith founded on concepts of love, forgiveness, and compassion. Any person of faith would have had no issues with the bishop’s message.

It was therefore no surprise that Trump immediately derided the sermon in a post on Truth Social and called Bishop Budde a “Radical Left hard line Trump hater.” He demanded an apology and called the female bishop “nasty” and “not smart” – his favorite insults for women who dare challenge him or question the wisdom of his policies (Vice President Harris of course received the same petulant treatment). Other Trump supporters followed suit, sending insulting and vitriolic messages to the bishop.

Despite their self-proclaimed “Christian” credentials, Trump and his allies who verbally attacked the bishop (Republican Congressman Mike Collins absurdly said Bishop Budde should be deported) only demonstrated that they are profoundly ignorant of their own faith.

The fear to which Bishop Budde spoke is genuine. I know from conversations with my younger daughter and other LGBTQ people with whom I have spoken that many in the LGBTQ community fear that their recently won legal rights and protections may soon be reversed, from protections against discrimination and the right to marry and adopt children. Hopefully, this fear will prove to be unwarranted, but it is real and well-grounded now. And the transgender community, the most vulnerable of United States citizens today, feels that they are being written out of American life, and as of this week derision of their status is officially endorsed in the halls of power. This will  inevitably lead to attacks on their physical safety and an escalation in teen suicides.

It goes without saying that millions of immigrant families who have built meaningful and productive lives in the United States are genuinely afraid that Trump’s promise to implement mass deportations will destroy their lives and break up their families. His recent executive orders to immediately halt the refugee resettlement program and stop those facing political and religious persecution from entering the country, and to end birthright citizenship, a bedrock principle embedded in the Constitution, are not the actions of a compassionate, merciful, or even well-informed president. And his planned mass evictions of immigrants will deprive millions of children and their families with any prospect of dignity and deprive American businesses of access to hard working and law-abiding employees who perform much of the labor American citizens refuse to do. It is indeed important to protect our borders but there have been many bipartisan legislative solutions rejected by Trump that would more equitably balance border security with providing a pathway to citizenship for the millions of undocumented immigrants who have built productive and meaningful lives in this country and who want nothing more than to be fully accountable, patriotic citizens.

As my friend the late Rev. John Steinbruck, a Lutheran pastor who championed the church as a place of refuge where everyone was welcome, told me a few years before he died, many self-proclaimed Christians in the United States misuse and distort their own religious teachings. “We mix religion and patriotism very shrewdly,” he said. “Our society uses the stamp of Jesus to sanctify a system based on inequalities and military might.” He insisted the purpose of the Church (and all religions) is not to make us feel good, but to spur us into action to make the world more just; to impose God’s vision of shalom and justice on Earth. 

“The face of God is in every human being,” he said. “Every human life possesses dignity and demands reverence.” These concepts are the heart of Christianity and Judaism. If Trump expected to hear a different message in Bishop Budde’s sermon last Tuesday, then shame on him. Trump was legitimately elected president and has the right to implement his policies that do not run afoul of the constitution. But it might serve him well to overcome his pettiness and open his heart and mind to the words of thoughtful and compassionate spiritual leaders who know something about the faith he claims to follow.